


Long Live the King

by booksblanketsandtea



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:17:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksblanketsandtea/pseuds/booksblanketsandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A destiny can only be delayed so many times.</p><p>Uther fell ill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live the King

 

It was not long after the great dragon had attacked the castle that winter too unleashed it’s fury upon Camelot. Snow drifted from the sky in an unassuming torrent and ice covered every available surface, the chill making it dangerous to simply cross the courtyard on some days.

Uther spent his time wandering the castle, ignoring the cold as he oversaw the rebuilding.

 

The dragon had done substantial damage to the roof on the west side of the castle and two sections on the North and South sides had been torn and smashed away, leaving the castle insides exposed. The northern breach was not far from Uther’s rooms and every day he would stop for a moment and look out of the gaping hole at his kingdom, calculating eyes taking every detail of the winter smothered world before him. He would ignore the cold, standing with a rigid back and his head held high as he surveyed the damage leading out to the city below him.

 

But no matter how a man may try, the seasons cannot be tamed or ignored, least of all winter. And a destiny can only be delayed so many times.

 

Uther fell ill.

 

 

~

 

It had been nearly two weeks, thought Arthur as he stood just outside the heavy oak door.

Two weeks since his Father had first fallen ill, his hacking cough sounding throughout the castle in everyone’s minds.

Fourteen days since Gaius had diagnosed pneumonia and began treating as best he could, with all the herbs of the forest frozen under layers of ice and snow.

Thirteen since his Father had come down with a fever as well.

Eight days since his Father had first coughed up blood.

Five since he had succumbed to the delusions of his fever.

And three since he had fallen into a coma.

 

Gaius said it was the body’s way of dealing with extreme sickness such as this.

The physician did not have to say that it was unlikely the King would ever wake. Everyone knew hope was all but lost when one fell into a coma. The mind itself flees, leaving the body barely functional.

Arthur sighed as he entered his Father’s chambers.

Uther was all but dead.

Arthur was all but King.

 

He saw it in the way the servants looked at him now – they were curious, wanting to see what kind of man their new king would be. They were waiting. 

And so, Arthur knew, was another servant.

One who happened to be – God forbid anyone figured it out – rather dear in his heart.

 

Arthur was not stupid. He had been too lucky, too many times for him to be able to simply wave a hand and ignore it any longer. It had not taken long to figure out that his manservant – his _friend_ – was a warlock. In fact it was almost embarrassing that he hadn’t realised it before. But then, he hadn’t exactly been _surprised_. It had made sense. Heck, after that particular epiphany, _everything_ made sense. Well, almost. He still wasn’t sure how the hell the magician was still _alive_ to be honest. Merlin was perhaps the worst secret keeper Arthur had ever had the misfortune to meet; he flushed whenever their escapades were mentioned, he stumbled over simple answers to simple questions and he could never meet Arthur’s eye when the Prince talked about magic.

He had finally figured it out, after the dragon had just ‘left’. Again, he was ashamed it had taken him so long. It had felt like a blow to the stomach once he realised though.

Merlin was afraid.

Merlin didn’t trust him enough to keep him safe from Uther’s grasp.

 

That was why he was here.

Because he knew that as soon as he was crowned King, things were going to change. Although he was not naive enough to doubt that magic could be dangerous, Arthur had never seen the point of executing people for harmless tricks such as healing a cold or making flowers bloom early in the season. That was why he would lift the ban. Magic would be regulated, of course – laws would have to be set down and the punishment for breaking those laws would be fitting.

But he knew that it would benefit Camelot in the end. So many attacks and deaths had fallen upon this land; all because one man’s prejudice and fear had caused him to toss out an entire group of people - an entire _way of life_.

 

Arthur was determined to put a stop to it, but he did not wish to betray the man who had taught him all he knew. He owed his father the truth, at least. He was quiet as he sat in the seat next to the King’s near lifeless form.

“Father,” Arthur started out, his quiet voice loud in the heavy silence. “I need to tell you something.”

“Gaius says there is little hope. He thinks you have maybe two, three days at most. I do not blame him – he has tried everything he possibly could. You know he has. But this isn’t why I’m here.”

“It’s about my plans for Camelot. Once you’re-” he cleared his throat, refusing to let it constrain his speech. “Once you are gone Father, I plan to revoke the law banning magic.”

Arthur waits, tensely, for his father to jump up, yelling and screaming betrayal. The King’s eyelids flicker but that is all – Gaius has already explained this to be a part of the dreams and delusions brought on by the fever, so Arthur continues.

“I understand why you banned it in the first place Father. If used by the wrong person then it is dangerous. But then, so is a sword.”

He laughs, and it is an almost desperate sound.

“I mean, look at Merlin! He’s nearly accidently cut my head off with that blunt thing he calls a weapon at least three times, but when he-”

Arthur stops, and takes a few breaths, refusing to lose his calm. A moment’s pause and he continues.

“I’ve known he was a warlock for months now. And the evillest thing I have ever seen him do was trip Lord Hershall in the courtyard after he struck that young maid.”

“He’s saved my life so many times. And despite all you’ve done to his kind... despite all the burning and the beheadings... he has saved your life too. He’s done more for Camelot than we ever could. Camelot is still _here_ because of Merlin.”

 “I understand why you banned magic father. Merlin told me that Morgouse spoke the truth, but that you did not know the consequences of using such magic. I know my Mother was taken from you. I know this is what truly spurred the purge. Hell, I would probably do something similar if Mer-”

Arthur stops himself, looking away. He should not be comparing his father’s love for Arthur’s mother to what he feels for Merlin. This _... This_ is something he can barely admit to _himself_ , let alone his dying father. So he restarts, pretending his slip of the tongue never happened.

“I can only imagine how that must have hurt. But I was born _because_ of magic Father. I cannot rule a kingdom that would ban my very existence. And I cannot rule a kingdom that kills innocents. So I shall change the law.”

  
Arthur stood from the chair, looking down at his father. His face was drawn, his breathing laboured and shallow. The Prince did not recognise the fierce monarch he knew his father to be.

“I know that, if you were... if you were well... then I would not be telling you this. You would have Merlin killed before he blinked. And I won’t let anything happen to him. I can’t see that happen to him. It’d kill me, I think. I don’t know. I just- I felt that I should tell you. Please do not believe I am betraying you Father. I am merely choosing the people’s wellbeing over your grudge.”

 

Arthur hesitated, before bending and placing a kiss on his father’s forehead, where his crown usually sat. He drew back up, face blank, and quickly strode back to his own chambers.

 

He was suddenly afraid, his uncharacteristic show of affection forcing him to realise what seeing his usually strong Father had not managed to do - this was _real._ Uther might very well die that night, and Arthur would be named King.

The prince sat heavily in his chair, looking over the dishes spread on the table from his evening meal (most with food still on them) and put his head in his hands, trying to smothering the tears that were finally surfacing.

For the fifth time in his life, Arthur Pendragon cried.

This time it was not for the lack of a mother, or the lack of a father’s affection, or for the pain of an injury or the death of a fellow knight.

He wept for Camelot, for the pain its people had suffered at the hands of the present King and for the hope of the future. He wept for the lack of regret his Father’s impending death brought him. Sorrow, yes. But no regret.

But most of all, he wept for a pair of eyes the colour of the night sky that flashed golden when no one was meant to be looking. He wept in relief for Merlin’s secret that would finally – _finally_ – be out in the open between the two of them.

And Arthur wept in misery for his own secret, one that he would _never_ be able to tell Merlin.

 

 

~

 

It was getting on in the evening, and Merlin was rushing up to Arthur’s chambers, having forgotten to clear his table whilst the Prince was visiting the King. He had not remembered to put on a jacket, having left the chambers he and Gaius shared at breakneck speed so he would get to Arthur’s dishes before the Prince, and he shivered in the cold night air. He pushed on through the near deserted castle however, not bothering to turn back. Merlin didn’t need to add to his friends troubles by skipping out on his duties, so when he realised that Arthur was already in his chambers, he cursed himself internally.

He was just about to open to door to its full extent, when he realised there was a strange noise coming from within. Frowning, Merlin moved his head slightly so that he could see through the gap in the door.

Arthur was sitting at the table, elbows on the table and his face hidden by his hands. Every so often his body would give a heaving motion; it took Merlin a few moments to realise what he was witnessing.

Arthur was _crying_.

 

Feeling like he had been dealt a blow to the stomach, Merlin pulled the door to the Prince’s chambers shut silently, before backing away slowly to lean against the wall opposite, his mind whirring.

Gaius would kill him, he reasoned. He really shouldn’t. Uther was in a _coma_ for crying out loud! People didn’t just wake up from comas. Not even Kings.

A muffled sob came from behind the door in front of him and, after casting a spell to muffle any more noise from Arthur’s rooms for the next few hours, Merlin set off towards the north side of the castle, that one heart-wrenching noise tearing his resolve to shreds. He didn’t know when it had happened, or why, but Merlin found that right now he was willing to do anything to stop Arthur’s pain.

And if that meant healing a magic hating dictator who had the power to have him killed with a wave of his hand, and who just happened to be his best friend’s father... if stopping Arthur’s pain meant healing Uther the only way he knew how... with his _magic_...

Then Merlin would.

For Arthur.

 

Standing next to the dying King, Merlin starred at the man who had threatened his very life in Camelot.

“What the hell am I doing here...” he muttered to himself.

“I shouldn’t be doing this... It’s his time to die. Arthur will make a great King. I shouldn’t do this.”

Even as he said this, he was running through appropriate healing spells in his mind.

Merlin looked down at the King. There was no sign of the cold dictator that had become so familiar to him over the past three years in Camelot. He looked powerless now. He looked like any other man. Any other father, overcome with sickness. It was this along with the memory of Arthur’s face hidden in his hands, that made Merlin finally place his hands on the King’s chest.

“This is going to get me killed, I just know it” He murmured, before beginning the healing process.

The blue light that Merlin knew as his magic built in his hands, and he pushed it through into the King’s chest with a few well chosen words. The light shimmered there for a moment, seeming to move and sparkle, before settling and fading into the King. Merlin quickly whispered a few words over the Kings’ brow, alleviating his fever and bringing him away from the depths of the coma he was in. The light faded into Uther’s skull this time, and Merlin swayed slightly with the use of such powerful healing spells.

Definitely more draining then healing a cold, he thought as he headed towards the door.

The spells should last at least a few days; hopefully they would strengthen the King enough that he would recover in that time. Merlin had done all that he could, relieving the King of his pneumonia and sating the burning fever. He had done his best to pull him all the way out of the coma, but it was just too difficult. The rest was up to Uther.

 

Merlin could only hope, as he slipped out of the King’s chambers, that his attempts had not been wasted. If only for Arthur’s sake.

 

~

 

The next morning, the King was well.

 

~

Gaius was called to the King’s chambers, Merlin tagging along behind and doing his best to hide his glee at his success.

When they entered the room, Arthur was standing by the window, his eyes trained on his father, wary and cautious, as if he was waiting for something to happen. What, Merlin did not know – it was quite obvious that the King was better. His skin had returned to a natural colour, and his eyes were focused and sharp as they took in the three people in the room.

Merlin caught Arthur’s eye and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Gaius shuffled around the King, inspecting him, looking into his eyes and mouth, checking for what they didn’t know. Eventually he straightened and moved away slightly.

“You have made an almost full recovery Sire. Other than being exhausted I can see no signs of illness on you. It is... quite remarkable.” Gaius shot Merlin a look that told him he knew _exactly_ how remarkable the King’s recovery was.

Uther nodded, but he seemed not to be listening, instead he was looking between his son and Merlin, eyes cold and calculating.

“Indeed, I thought there was very little hope. It is quite a miracle.” He said, eyes locking onto Arthur’s and then Merlin’s.

Merlin felt his face heat up and he quickly averted his eyes to Arthur, who was staring at him with an expression of badly suppressed horror on his face.

The Prince stepped away from the window, determinedly keeping his steps unhurried as he moved to clap Merlin on the shoulder, squeezing rather tightly.

“Well Merlin, you’re hardly going to be needed here, you may as well go clean my room.”

Merlin’s eyes flicked to his Prince and he made to turn around and leave, but a strong voice from the bed made him freeze.

“Halt.”

Merlin froze. His heart was beginning to beat painfully hard against his chest and he risked looking at Arthur again. The Prince was pale, eyes screwed shut in despair.

“My Lord, I am afraid the Prince is right.” Gaius said carefully. “Merlin is not going to be of any use here.”

“But Gaius, that is where you are mistaken. Merlin has already done more than enough to be of use – haven’t you, _sorcerer?_ ”

The silence ringing in the room was incredible, and Merlin felt lightheaded and sick.

Surprisingly, it was Arthur who broke the quiet, grabbing Merlin’s arm as he moved to step between him and the bed, as though Uther might suddenly jump at them with a sword.

“I won’t let you hurt him.”

Uther’s eyes hardened as he gave a twisted smile.

“Gaius, leave. I need to discuss something with my son and the... _magician_.”

The physician moved immediately to leave, but he hesitated at the door. Gaius’ eyes were sad as he looked between his best friend and the boy he considered a son.

“Merlin is not Nimueh, Uther. Remember that. Please.”

“Get _out,_ Gaius.”

 

The door shut with a solid click behind him.

 

Arthur was still standing in front of Merlin, his hand clasping tightly onto his manservant’s sleeve. He could feel two pairs of eyes on him, one smug and knowing and one utterly confused.

Of course, it was Merlin who spoke.

“You knew?”

“Of course I bloody knew Merlin!” Arthur spat. “How could I not with you doing your best to get caught all the time?”

“I wasn’t trying to get caught! I was helping!”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” Arthur hissed, nodding his head towards his Father, who was watching with what almost seemed to be angry amusement.

“You bloody prat! you could at least be grateful! It’s not like I saved him for _my_ benefit!” Merlin said coolly, tugging his sleeve from Arthur’s grasp.

The Prince’s face knitted in confusion, and Merlin sighed.

“I... _may_ have seen you crying last night.” The warlock admitted, and Arthur laughed without humour as he began to grasp at what had happened.

“You absolute idiot! I wasn’t- I mean I- I didn’t...”

 

“I think what Arthur is trying to tell you, is that he was not mourning my imminent death.” Uther finally spoke up, his cold voice showing no emotion as he stared almost accusingly at his son.

Arthur turned wildly to his father.

“Of course I was mourning your death! You’re my _father_! I just... wasn’t. Then. When Merlin saw.”

“Then why were you crying?” the young sorcerer probed and Arthur turned his face away so Merlin wouldn’t see his expression.

“Maybe I can shed some light on this situation, hmm?” Uther asked, and Merlin turned to him for the first time, eyes suspicious.

“You know I’m a sorcerer, why haven’t you had me killed yet?”

“Why didn’t you leave me to die?” Uther shot back and Merlin flushed, his eyes flicking unwillingly to the man standing next to him.

“I thought as much” the King sighed, weakly pushing himself further up the cushions in his bed.

“Yesterday, Arthur came to me and, obviously thinking me about to die, told me of his plans for Camelot once I am gone.”

Arthur’s eyes were wild as he stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak, but Uther held up a hand and he stopped.

“What a King does is his own decision. It must be in the best interests of the people and of the court. Lastly, it should benefit both the crown as a whole, and the King himself. A weak King is a dead King.”

“Father-”

“Arthur has decided that he will, upon my death, revoke the law against magic.” Uther said calmly, his voice bitter. Merlin let out a gasp, turning to his Prince who began to blush.

“He believes this will not only help Camelot, but its people. He is thinking of them first of all – but he has not forgotten himself.”

Merlin’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“Arthur? What does he-”

Arthur turned to face him, eyes serious even as his cheeks stained an even deeper pink.

“He means that I’m being selfish because I mainly want that damn law revoked so that you can stay here in Camelot. So you can, if you wish it, be Court Sorcerer and advise me when I am King. So that there are no more secrets between us... so you can finally _trust_ me.”

Merlin’s eyes had grown wide and he was having trouble remembering to breath.

“You.. You want me.. Advising you?”

“You’re the only one I could trust to do it right.” Arthur shrugged and the boys heard Uther snorted bitterly.

“I never thought you a coward Arthur.”

Arthur turned his eyes to his father, glaring.

“Just because you remember everything I said doesn’t mean that everything I said has to be _repeated_!”

Uther rolled his eyes and Merlin was struck by how... _human_ he was being. It was strange.

“Man up boy. This is the last piece of advice I give to you: _tell him_.”

Arthur was still weakly protesting when Merlin caught on to Uther’s words.

“What do you mean _last_?”

Uther sighed. It was a heavy, sad sound, and Merlin felt tired just hearing it.

“You are going to remove the spells you placed on me and I shall die, as is my time and right to do so. Arthur shall become King, as is his right. And you, Merlin -” here the King laughed bitterly. “You shall be able to practise your damned magic without having to hide like a coward.”

“But- _Father...”_ Arthur protested, and Uther held up his hand.

“This is my decision and mine alone Arthur.”

“Why?” Merlin asked, and Uther settled back into his bed.

“I have been King for a long time. It is... tiring. Especially when you do not have someone to share the burdens with,” Uther added, glancing pointedly at his son. “I miss my Igraine. I know Arthur is ready to take the crown and I know that he will do well. That is all that I ever needed to know.”

“You’re serious,” Arthur said. “You are actually going to just lie there and...”

Uther smiled at his son, almost pityingly.

“You were right Arthur. If I heal completely then I shall, eventually, have this boy of yours killed and you imprisoned for betraying me.”

“I’m not betraying you!” Arthur exclaimed and Uther shook his head.

“Yes, you are. But you are right. Too many have died under my reign; too much blood has been shed. I trust that you will do better. Now, _warlock-”_ Uther all but spat at Merlin, “undo whatever trickery that is keeping me alive. I have no need of it and nor do I wish for it. I loathe magic and your kind and I refuse to be under its influence and in your debt, even if it means my death.”

Merlin hesitated, looking between the two Kings – present and future.

Arthur finally sighed and moved to sit beside his Father.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked, moving to stand next to them.

Uther nodded, but Merlin wasn’t looking at him.

“It’s not my choice to make.” Arthur said tiredly and Merlin nodded, turning to the King.

“You never actually answered my question.” he said in a falsely calm tone as his hands began to move in strange patterns over the King’s chest, specks of blue light moving to gather in his palms. “Why didn’t you just have me killed?”

The King sighed as he felt the artificial life leaving him.

“For the same reason that you saved me.” Uther replied honestly, squeezing his son’s hand in his own tired fist. Merlin and Arthur looked at each other, their eyes catching as the last few specks of magic flew into Merlin’s grasp. Arthur felt his fathers’ hand become heavy in his own and after a moment’s pause, it hung limp and lifeless as Uther fell back into the coma that would eventually claim his life.

 

~

 

They told Gaius what had happened, and, as the only three to have known that Uther had recovered in the first place, they did not mention the morning’s events to anyone.

 

~

Later that day, Uther Pendragon died.

~

Arthur was standing at his window, looking down on the lights of Camelot flickering to life as night began to fall when Merlin entered his chambers. They had not spoken since that morning, Arthur having fled after his father fell back into the coma and the rest of his day had been spent making plans for the funeral, which would take place the next afternoon.

“Arthur,” Merlin said quietly as he entered, “I just... I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

Arthur turned, and the soon-to-be King saw the tears barely being held at bay in his friends’ eyes and his expression softened.

“It’s not your fault Merlin. You did nothing he did not ask of you.”

“But- I should have ignored him, or.. or just-”

“Just what? Left him to recover? And then what? Merlin, you would have had to flee Camelot! He would have made me _hunt_ you!”

Merlin stepped forward and Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Well, he would have _tried_ to make me hunt you.”

“You would have gone against him?”

Arthur laughed. “I’ve been going against my Father for you for months now Merlin. Don’t think that would have changed simply because of an order.”

Merlin’s eyes were confused as he stepped closer again and Arthur tried not to tense when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Nevertheless... he was your Father and I am sorry.”

“I don’t regret his decision.” Arthur said quietly, looking out the window. “You would have had to leave, had he stayed alive. You would have been in danger.”

Merlin was sure there was something more Arthur was trying to say, but he just couldn’t reach his point. He remembered Uther’s last words of advice to his son.

“Arthur... what did Uther want you to tell me? What did he know that I don’t?”

Arthur avoided his eyes. “A lot, I would imagine.”

“ _Arthur_...”

The blonde turned around, and Merlin grabbed his arm as he made to move away from him.

“ _Please_ Arthur...Don’t feel that you cannot trust me. I could not tell you my secret because it might have cost me my life. What is this secret going to cost you?”

Arthur groaned in frustration, cupping Merlin’s face in his hands, willing him to realize what he was saying.

“God damn it Merlin, it could cost me _you_.”

Merlin’s eyebrows drew together in confusion and he shook his head, still encased in the Prince’s palms. They were warm and he could feel the calluses Arthur had from training brushing his cheeks.

“I don’t understand...”

“Neither do I” Arthur admitted before giving up all hope of subtlety and pulling Merlin closer to him, moving his head to press his lips against the warlocks.

 

Merlin gasped as Arthur’s lips brushed against his, the movement shooting sparks up his spine. Arthur’s mouth whispered above his own, gently skimming over them as he waited for something. Merlin realised with a jolt that he was waiting for _him_ and, after a second’s hesitation, he tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips more firmly against Arthurs. The blonde man gave a pleased moan and Merlin felt heat pool in his stomach as Arthur drew the warlocks’ bottom lip between his and sucked on it gently. Merlin whimpered at the sensation and moved closer to the Prince- the _King_ \- - - and suddenly, stopped.

_The King._

He pulled back, desperately ignoring Arthur’s lips chasing his own.

“A-Arthur...” Merlin gasped, “I- we _can’t._ ”

Arthur’s eyes were blown wide as he tried to focus on what Merlin was saying, breathing heavy and warm on Merlin’s cheeks.

“Don’t- Don’t you want this?”

Merlin groaned in frustration, moving closer again, and suddenly Arthur could _feel_ just how much Merlin wanted him. It was dizzying.

“Of course I do!”

“Then what’s-”

“Arthur _you’re the King!_ You- _Camelot_ needs heirs!”

Arthur looked at him seriously for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing.

“Merlin... you twit, I’m not going to give you up just because one day I’ll have to impregnate some random princess!”

“But... p-propriety, and...Uh...” Merlin stuttered as Arthur’s lips found their way to his neck, leaving a trail of gentle, soothing kisses in their wake.

“Merlin – I’m the _King_. I set the rules on propriety. And if I want to sleep with the Court Sorcerer then I bloody well will.” Arthur chuckled against his neck, the vibrations making Merlin’s head light.

“Ok. We – _oh_ – we might need a bed for t-that,” Merlin stammered, but he was already being pushed backwards, his knees hitting the edge of Arthur’s mattress, the King’s solid weight pushing him back until he was spread out in the centre of the bed, panting wildly.

“Merlin,” Arthur muttered between kisses that were beginning to make them both light headed with lack of air. “Lock the door.”

With a flash of gold and a silent gesture, the door had locked firmly into place.

No one was entering Arthur’s chambers that night.

No one was leaving either.

 

~

Arthur’s coronation was held two days after Uther’s funeral.

And as he greeted the people for the first time as their King, Merlin stood near him, his blue eyes crinkled in that crooked smile of his as the King spoke to the citizens of Camelot.

And when Arthur explained to them his first act as their ruler, the courtyard went silent.

Arthur continued despite the shock and ripple of fear that went through the crowd below.

“My father thought that magic was evil. He was mistaken. I believe that magic is like any other form of power – be it a sword, or even a title. _Any_ type of power can be used for evil, for it corrupts men easily. But there are still those who use their talents for good. Look to the knights that protect you. A sword is as evil as the one who wields it. Magic is the same. _Power_ is the same. It is my hope that by restoring magic to Camelot, we as a people shall benefit from it. I feel that I must do this. Too many have died for harmless tricks, or for simply being who they were born to be. Magic will be regulated, as all things must – make no mistake. Anyone caught using magic to commit crimes will be dealt with swiftly and seriously. Corruption is not something I will tolerate in this Kingdom.”

There was a murmur of relief through the crowd – they had been told for years that magic was cruel and evil and merciless. It would take time, but they would eventually come to realise their King was right. Power corrupts, but only those who were determined to be corrupt in the first place.

“With this announcement, I wish to introduce the new Court Sorcerer, though I am sure most of you know him. He has saved my life countless times over the past few years and whether you realise it, yours as well.”

And Arthur turned to Merlin, who was still dressed in his servants’ clothes, hair scruffy and cheeks flushing as he realised exactly what Arthur was doing.

“Arthur-”

“I told you Merlin. You’re the only one I could trust to do it right.” Arthur whispered before he stepped aside, gesturing for Merlin to stand beside him. “Merlin Emrys is a good man. He will be advising me on matters of magic and helping to lay down the laws involved. I trust him with my life – and more importantly, yours. It is not in his nature to let us down. I have complete faith in him.”

Merlin’s face reddened some more, the crowd below still silent.

Suddenly, the sound of clapping could be heard, and Merlin and Arthur turned to see Gwen and Morgana standing on her balcony, applauding them both enthusiastically. Slowly, in trickles, the people of Camelot followed suit, still getting used to the idea.

“Show them,” the King muttered, smiling down at his people. “Show them what magic is like Merlin. Show them how this Kingdom will be.”

And Merlin grinned that crooked grin of his, raising his hand to wave across the sky above the courtyard, his eyes glowing gold.

And the people below began to gasp and cheer in earnest as white petals fell down from an invisible source like snow, coming to rest on the cobblestones as a final offering to those killed in this very courtyard for something that never should have been outlawed in the first place.

“Long live the King!” a youthful voice shouted from below and the people took up the cry as they danced like children in the falling petals. Arthur felt a grin tug at his face and he let it spread, turning to catch Merlin’s eye.

“Yes. Long live King Arthur.” Merlin murmured to his friend-turned-lover, and, hidden from the people by the balcony wall, Arthur’s hand grasped Merlin’s with a gentle squeeze, intent on showing Merlin just how _they_ would be.  
  
Together. 

For as long as they lived - and more.

 


End file.
